Trickling down…

My thigh touching yours, your arm wrapped around my waist.

I clutch my toes, hoping that it will provide some quick relief like the therapist said, but it only hurts me.

I stare into nothingness as your hands trickle down my waist to my butt.

“Is this okay?,” you whisper into my ear.

Your hot breath feels as if it creates water vapor in my ear as I shut my eyes tight and try to mumble out, “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Consent.

My body goes stiff as your hand trickles down into my pants.

My thighs clench until I get a cramp.

My face gets hot, along with my chest.

I can barely breathe.

“No!” I yell, my eyes flooding with tears. “Never again!”

You suddenly back away, a worrisome look in your eyes.

Your heart is beating fast when it was just beating slowly with such passion.

I’m sorry that I can’t love you the way you want me to.

I’m sorry for giving you the consent to trickle your way into my temple.

I’m sorry for still processing what happened to me 6 years ago.

I’m sorry if I made you think that your hand could be trickling down.